


get set

by tanyart



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Clothed Sex, Established Relationship, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-25
Updated: 2018-07-25
Packaged: 2019-06-16 01:04:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15425610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tanyart/pseuds/tanyart
Summary: Enoch comes back from a patrol and visits Marcus. They miss each other a lot.





	get set

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: _excited_

The patrol lasted way longer than Enoch had predicted. A full day’s outing turned into three when the team got caught in between some Hive and Fallen territorial dispute, which led to silencing both parties with some good old fashion Guardian intervention. At least the overtime pay was going to be good—not that Enoch was in pressing need for glimmer since winning the league cup, but a few extra thousand in the vault never hurt.

Buying take-out and a pack of beer was easy and guilt-free this time around. Enoch was in a cheery enough mood to stop by Marcus’ garage to see what he was up to. He hadn’t heard from Marcus since that quick message about the patrol taking additional days. Marcus had looked glum through the video feed at the news but not devastated. He rallied by wishing Enoch luck, mentioned something about a new project he was working on, and that was that.

Now, poking his head into the enclosed garage, Enoch could see Marcus hadn’t been lying about the new project. The sparrow was almost completed, chassis done and engine laid open for fine-tuning. Marcus himself was at the work table, muttering under his breath with his head bent low over six different datapads. At _least_ six. It was hard to tell how many were stacked over each other.

Enoch grinned. No wonder Marcus hadn’t called him. He couldn’t see the exact statistics of the sparrow but it looked _weird,_ in the best possible sense of the word. It didn’t have a prayer making it pass SLR regulations but then again, half of Marcus’ sparrows weren’t just for SLR either.

Still, the sparrow was pretty despite its strangeness— _unless that was something crawling in the engine tubes_ —whatever. Marcus looked close to finishing it, and Enoch would hate to be the one to interrupt him. He didn’t have an ounce of genius in him but he knew how fixated Marcus got on a project. Best let him finish it now and visit later to hear all about it.

Enoch set the pack of beer down at the corner of the garage’s entrance, thinking he might as well leave them there for Marcus once the sparrow was done. He trusted Marcus to invite him over to celebrate afterwards. But still, the thought deflated Enoch’s good mood a little.

The bottles clinked together, not loud at all, but Marcus’ head shot up anyway.

Enoch straightened, hands coming up and Chinese take-out bag dangling from his wrist. “Sorry, didn’t mean to barge in.”

Marcus blinked owlishly at him for a long moment, expression blank, and glanced back down at his datapads, frowning. Enoch took that as a sign to back away from the garage but Marcus called out before he could disappear.

“What? And you weren’t gonna say hi?”

Enoch poked his head back in, trying his damn best to sound apologetic instead of hopeful. “You look busy. I didn’t want to distract you.”

One of Marcus’ hands hadn’t stopped keying over one of the datapads. The unfinished sparrow gave a little sputter as the input command failed. Enoch didn’t know what Marcus intended to do, but apparently it didn't work. Marcus let out a frustrated sigh and dropped his forehead to the worktable with an audible thump. Enoch winced in sympathy.

“Maybe,” Marcus began, muffled, “I could use the distraction.” He turned his head, peering up at Enoch with a reddened forehead. His gaze was glassy, and Enoch wondered just how long Marcus had holed himself inside his garage.

“I mean, I brought food if you want it,” Enoch said, holding up the take-out. He was already walking closer, despite being uninvited still. He couldn’t help himself. It had been days since he had seen Marcus, and he knew Marcus wasn’t in the right state of mind to socialize, but—

“Food? Shit, Bast, I don’t need that,” Marcus said, laughing, but the distracted sheen in his eyes started to clear. He propped his elbows up on the table, giving Enoch a look that made it clear what he _did_ want instead. “Get over here. I missed you.”

The only bad thing about Marcus’ garage was that there wasn’t a straight path to anywhere. Enoch was sure he would have leaped over spare parts and shouldered through shelves if it wouldn’t have left an unforgivable mess.

(Okay, so maybe he did jump over a couple of crates but he didn’t knock anything off. He did lose the Chinese take-out sometime before the leap though.)

“Oomph!” Marcus grunted, staggering back as Enoch boxed him between the table. He laughed. “Hello, _hello_ —” and then leaned forward to receive his kiss.

It was all grins and smiles on Marcus’ end. Enoch could feel Marcus’ crooked smirk against his lips. He knew he was being teased, knew Marcus wanted to be smug about all the attention he was receiving. Marcus’ thoughts were loud— _oh, so you missed me, too?_

Enoch was a crapshot at words. Having his hands all over Marcus seemed like a better way of communicating. Besides, showing a little neediness seemed fair this time around since Marcus was no better, hitching his leg over Enoch’s waist to draw him closer. His thigh dragged against the heavy material of Enoch’s titan mark, stopping as it bumped against the belt.

“New gun? Feels nice,” Marcus mumbled, taking the liberty of relieving said gun from Enoch’s holster.

“You’re lucky that’s the only one I— _mmph_.”

The pistol clattered over the table, joining the pile of forgotten datapads. Enoch’s head spun, hips jerking forward at Marcus’ insistence. Sure, Marcus was the first—almost _always_ first, with this guy—to admit to missing him, but no words matched up to the eager way Marcus wrapped his arms around him, fingers digging into Enoch’s undershirt. If he had been wearing armor, Enoch was sure Marcus would have happily pried it all off.

A fiery bloom shot down Enoch’s spine. He was used to seeing Marcus so focused on his projects and racing, hellbent on winning and nothing else. It never occurred to Enoch that Marcus could swing all that clever, manic attention right back at him. The idea made Enoch dizzy, hands slipping from Marcus’ waist to brace against the table at either side. Like this, he could peer up, catch his breath, and watch Marcus’ dark gaze fall short of burning him up right on the spot.

“I’m telling Didi to close the garage,” Marcus said, voice rough. “And I want the people outside to know there’s a good reason for it.”

Big words as usual. Enoch felt Marcus rut against him, small constrianing motions like he couldn’t help himself. There was no way Didi could get the garage to close fast enough. Enoch surged forward, hesitation crumbling to dust. He kissed Marcus again, embarrassingly sloppy, but a soft moan from Marcus sent Enoch bowling him over the table.

Datapads and schematics tumbled to the floor, flashes of mod parts and scribbled notes playing across the screens. Enoch backed away, about to mumble an apology, but that became difficult when a hand forced its way between Enoch’s legs, groping him through his pants. He choked, letting Marcus drag him the rest of the way down. Message loud and clear; _fuck the datapads_.

“C’mon, c’mon,” Marcus muttered, like he was still poring over one of his schematics, trying to detangle a problem. Enoch’s zipper was a current complication, easily solved if they bothered to move apart, but even then that sounded like it’d be one second too long for either of them.

Marcus’ fumbling was going to drive Enoch crazy at this rate. He pushed Marcus’ hand away, rolling his weight to press Marcus into the table. Marcus jerk his hips upwards, breathy whine ringing in Enoch’s ears as the hunter happily rocked against him. Clothes were irrelevant at this point. Enoch was sure he could get off just by hearing the noises he was getting out of Marcus. Rubbing against the hard outline of Marcus’ erection through his jumpsuit did the trick too.

Grinding on top of each other shouldn’t have been so hot and good. Nothing was going to be left on the table except for two very sweaty guardians, but Marcus seemed past caring about his incomplete schematics, and Enoch was stupid for it. Marcus wanted _him_ , climbing over a damn table and everything. Enoch buried his face into Marcus’ neck, hungry for every inch of exposed skin.

It was Marcus’ delighted huff of laughter that did him in, a whisper cool air on his cheek and Marcus’ rolling thrust upwards. Enoch’s breathing stuttered to a halt, quiet moan muffled into Marcus’ shoulder as he came in his pants.

“Always knew you were fast,” Marcus said, still sprawled on the table. He bit his lower lip, cocky smile not quite holding when Enoch turned to kiss him into silence, and yanked open the front of the jumpsuit. “Oh, okay? Oh, fuck!”

Enoch didn’t have to be smug about Marcus bending his knees and spreading his legs. Seeing his wild expression was worth every second Enoch didn’t waste bringing his head down to put his mouth on Marcus’ dick.

And, well, if speed was ever still a competition between them—and it _would_ be, forever—Enoch was happy to report the old SLR legend hadn’t lost his touch either.

Marcus’ face was a nice shade of red by the time Enoch was done wiping his mouth. Enoch eased off the table, a little more than pleased, even if his pants were damp and getting uncomfortable. He signed a quick command to transmat new clothes on, shimmering grids making the swap. Meanwhile, Marcus still hadn’t moved.

“Good enough distraction?” Enoch asked wryly.

Marcus lifted his head. “Inspirational,” he said with a sigh, but sat up to snag a hold over Enoch’s sleeve. “And, for the record, you’re never a distraction.”

Enoch paused, and then felt his face heat up. Marcus, quick as ever, kissed him on the cheek before he could duck away.

“You said you brought some food?” Marcus asked, grinning.

“That I did,” Enoch said, looking around. Beers were where he left them in front and Chinese take-out where he’d dropped them, little containers flopped sideways in the bag.

But hey, at least the table was cleared.


End file.
